


Measuring Up, That Lucky Girl

by KateC



Series: Bellarke Naughty Nibbles [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jealousy Incarnate, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 00:36:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8182196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateC/pseuds/KateC
Summary: Clarke the movie actor meets with Bellamy Blake, rising star clothing designer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Got the idea for this post from this kdrama (Korean Drama) I'm watching right now called Jealousy Incarnate that I'm having a love-hate relationship with. I love the second lead and I hate the main lead and want him to die in a fiery death. Anyways, the second lead owns a clothing company and does the girl's measurements and I was like... oh, Bellamy can probably sew pretty well and oh, I would LOVE to see him make Clarke some clothes. I'm sure this idea has been done before, but I gotta be me.  
> Here is a link to the scene in question: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veYAtcs2j88&list=PLP2-3Uv-Z3dL4p9y7XIlG-kWvN4_lzMv1&index=9  
> Also, I KNOW I have a part 3 to write for my Captain America's Stars series (and it's a Memori one, so you know it's gonna be fun!). I also have an uber serious season 4 type fic, but I'm pressing down on some other projects, so a short fic is all I can offer at the moment.  
> (title is from a Mary Olive Poem, as per usual)
> 
> (also, I have no proofreader, so please excuse all mistakes. If you want to volunteer to proofread my fic, please message me!!)

“Please tell me again who this guy is?”

The card in Clarke's hand has a single word “Blake” written on it and a phone number underneath. Her pale pink nail scratched at it while she pondered the simplicity of the design.

“He is the guy that is gonna make you kill the red carpet and the stage when you win your Oscar,” Harper told her, checking over her tablet, which currently had Clarke's daily schedule loaded up on the screen. “And he'll be here at 11, so put on your game face.”

Ever since Clarke had ended things with her previous designer—and girlfriend—Lexa, she'd been struggling with her “look”. Having a personal desire to work with up-and-coming clothing designers had its pros and cons, but the con was Clarke feeling like she had gotten a little too generic lately. With the Oscars coming up, and especially this year, when she was actually nominated, Clarke needed to bring her A game. She and Harper had decided that meant they had to find a new designer, come hell or high water.

She was unprepared for him when he arrived. She had expected someone small, and eccentric looking. The man was eccentric, but in a way completely antithetical to the fashion industry—dressed in faded blue jeans and a gray t-shirt that clung to his muscular upper chest. When Harper showed him into the dressing room, mischievous grin on her face, Clarke knew she'd been played.

“You're Bellamy Blake?” she asked the tall, dark haired man with the mop of messy curls hanging towards his eyes.

Running a hand through the aforementioned curls, he nodded sheepishly.

“Let me guess, I'm not what you expected.”

“My last designer was a woman, so let's just say everything about you is the opposite of the expected.”

He smiled and turned down Harper's quick offer of a drink.

“I think we should get started. If you want to go ahead and slip out of that,” He said gesturing to her bulky sweatshirt and the sweatpants she'd gone jogging in that morning, “and into something like a slip or tight fitting yoga pants, we can finish quickly.”

Harper left the room to go make her calls. Clarke cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Do you always finish quickly, Mr. Blake?” she asked him. She wasn't sure later why the question left her lips. If pressed, she would have said the devil made her do it.

“It depends on the needs of my partner,” he replied smoothly. “And please, call me Bellamy.”

He gestured toward the closet, but she ignored him.

“Sorry, I need to shower first. Do you might waiting five minutes?”

“Anticipation is its own form of satisfaction,” he said and gave her a smirk that went straight to her groin.

_Are we flirting? Does he actually turn me on?_

She closed the door to the bathroom and stripped down after turning on the water. When it was warm, she hopped in, taking the world's fastest shower.

 _Anticipation_ , she thought. _Yes, he does turn me on._

She put on a tank top, braless, and little jogging shorts. Quickly toweling dry her wet blonde hair, she decided damp would have to do. Besides, she looked hot with wet hair.

_Let's see how fast he measures me now._

Saying nothing as she entered the room, Blake just put down his phone and picked up his measuring tape. He brought out his tablet and his fingers danced across the screen for a few moments. Then he set that down and approached her with the measuring tape.

Blake's touch was impersonal, the end of tape was against her shoulder, and then moved down her arm to her wrist. It was enough to make her skin prickle with goosebumps, though.

He moved to the iPad, making a quick notation and then was back at her side again. The tape measured from shoulder to shoulder, his large hands moving efficiently over her back.

“How many personal clients are you working with right now?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay low and even.

“You'll be my first, actually,” he said, leaning forward as he said it, his breath brushing her ear.

It was driving her crazy, this touching of her body, then moving over to the iPad to make his notations.

His hands slipped around her waist, grazing her belly, then slipped back. She shivered. He chuckled.

Those fingers killed her, always brushing, always tracing, always pretending they were just doing their job, but really they delighted in tormenting her. Clarke's nipples hardened and she regretted the decision to go braless. It was meant to taunt him, but now her desire was easy to see and so pathetic.

Blake dropped to his knees to measure the length of her legs, and she felt his breath ghost over her skin. His curls tickled her, where they brushed her thigh.

“I'll be your first? How exciting.” Clarke's still damp hair had made wet spots on her shoulders.

Blake— _Bellamy—_ moved around to her front and lifted her arms like he wanted her to pretend to be an airplane. She squeaked in surprise when his arms went around her, then she sighed when she felt the tape along her back.

“Disappointed?” he asked, smirking.

“Do you have any idea how unprofessional you're being right now?”

“What? I'm being the ultimate professional,” he said, and ran a thumb over her erect nipple when he brought the tape together in the front.

She stifled her gasp and locked eyes with him. Saying nothing, he let the tape fall, moving back to his iPad.

She started to move away, intending to go back to the bathroom and blow dry her hair, but his hands grabbed her hips and halted her in her tracks.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were done measuring,” she told him.

“I am,” he murmured and pulled her against him. “Work is over, time for play.”

She felt the hard-on brush against her backside and leaned against him.

“The ultimate professional, huh?” She took his right hand from her hip and slid it down the front of her shorts. When his fingers moved over the slick folds, she shuddered and moaned.

“Only when I'm working.”

The palm of Bellamy's other hand stroked her hip bone for a moment before traveling up over her stomach, across her ribs, and up to cup her breast. She thrust her hips, gasping delightedly when he pinched one of her nipples.

“How long did you tell my PA this would take?” she asked, breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Not long enough, unfortunately,” he grumbled, and turned her slightly so he could kiss her. His hand adjusted, fingers continuing their circling.

Despite his seeming haste, his tongue was smooth and slow when it entered her mouth. She sucked on the tip and felt a zing of satisfaction at his groan. He outright thrust against her then, and she wrapped a leg around his, leveraging herself up for his fingers. They moved in and out of her, and she almost came right then.

Except that he distracted her by pulling up her shirt so he could find her breast with his mouth.

Humming against the nipple, Bellamy resumed his stroking fingers until she tensed, bit her lip, and let out a series of soft cries as waves of pleasure rolled over her. His lips covered hers to muffle the sounds and she clutched his back through the last lingering jerk of her hips.

There were steps in the hall. She pulled back, yanking her shirt into place as Bellamy swiped at his mouth and adjusted his clothing. Just then, Harper came in through the door, looking distracted.

“Clarke, I didn't want to interrupt, but your agent has called like four times,” Harper said, holding out a cell phone.

“No worries, we just finished,” Bellamy told her, giving Clarke a backward glance and a wink to go along with it. He gathered up his things and walked out of the room, sauntering like he fingered random women every day of the week.

 _Maybe he does,_ she told herself.   _But who the hell cares?  That was hot._

She smiled as she put his card on her bedside table. She couldn't wait till the first fitting.

 

 


End file.
